


Gym Buddies

by Bisu



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Guitars, Gyms, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love, Marriage Proposal, Picnics, Sick Character, Slow Dancing, Spring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisu/pseuds/Bisu
Summary: It was at this point that Commander Gren realized, for certain, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman. He was, ah, what would Little Callum call it? Thirsty? That sounded about right. (Teen for a curse or two.)





	1. Deadlifts

Bass-heavy workout music thrummed through the gym. Shoes squeaked, people grunted, and in general, everyone was focused. Except for one man. Gren, after completing his bench presses, was eyeing Amaya. She was currently deadlifting 350 pounds, and Gren was doing his best not to stare. He was trying, he really was.

Keyword is trying. Watching the way her tight-fitted Army T-Shirt stretched around her rippling back muscles and biceps almost made his mouth water. Seeing her thighs and calves flex as she got into position made his head spin. He stared at her, not even caring anymore. 

Once the weight slammed against the platform, she turned to him. She smiled and winked, and he felt his heart rocket through the floor. She was… flirting? If Gren was honest with his buddies, he’d say Amaya was quite possibly the strongest person he knew, his best friend, confidant, and in general buddy. But… damn, he was rethinking the whole best friend thing. He wanted more.

He rationalized this, by thinking, ‘Hey, anybody seeing a woman in yoga pants and a tight shirt would drive a man wild.’ But he wasn’t staring at her ass (though he was appreciative of it.) It was her muscles. The power she held. Her stride. Her confidence. Her willingness to be the best damn person she could even with her disability.

His mind was a damn traitorous thing. Images flickered through, of them watching a movie on the couch, them dancing, drinking at a bar, kissing… oh god. He was in deep. He snapped his mind back to reality, and she was doing another damn set. She was at… 400. He stood and excused himself to the locker room.

He rinsed his face down, grasping at the porcelain sink and willing his burning face to cool. His mind was once again treasonous. Images of a wedding, kids… His face quickly started burning again.

It was at this point that Commander Gren realized, for certain, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman. He was, ah, what would Little Callum call it?  _ Thirsty?  _ That sounded about right. He splashed a bit more cool water on his face, blinking twice in the mirror and throwing on a self assuring smile.

 

That smile fell rather quickly. She was doing curls, and, mother excuse his mouth, holy  **_fuck._ ** That was 60 pounds of weight, and she was curling it like she was raising a glass of water. And then she looked directly at him. And blew a kiss.

He almost passed out. He must’ve. He haltingly signed to her, /Meet me in car/ and dashed to his Honda. She was out not a minute later, and he was in awe at her. Never before had he realized how damn  _ perfect  _ this woman was. She stalked right up to him, and quickly signed, almost sexily if someone can do that, /You done gawking, Gren? Take some action./

He didn’t need to be told twice. He slammed his mouth onto hers, wrapping his arms around her (holy shit muscular) back. If he was honest, he groaned into it. She was amazing. He pulled away, panting like a man without water. He ran inside to the locker room, grabbed their bags, and probably set some kind of land-speed record as he returned to her, and after catching his breath, he signed, /My place or yours?/

  
  


Waking up the next morning with a naked Amaya in his bed was a pleasant surprise.


	2. Iced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He and Amaya had only started truly dating a few days ago. They still went to the gym together, but Gren continually had trouble staying focused. It wasn’t… truly his fault. Because everytime, Amaya decided to do deadlifts right behind his squat rack. And just like the day they began dating, he was absolutely weak to it.

He and Amaya had only started truly dating a few days ago. They still went to the gym together, but Gren continually had trouble staying focused. It wasn’t… truly his fault. Because everytime, Amaya decided to do deadlifts right behind his squat rack. And just like the day they began dating, he was absolutely weak to it.

She dropped the weight, a whopping 425, a new record. He felt pride flare up in his chest, his mind making sure to remind him of the fact that this absolutely incredible woman was currently dating him. He damn near swooned then and there, but was determined to finish his set.

 

Up.

 

Down.

 

Up.

 

Down.

 

Up.

 

Down.

 

Up…

 

Damnit.

She had put another 25 on the bar. She must’ve noticed him staring. And she bent down, gripped the bar, and slowly but surely, lifted it to her waist and then dropped it down. He put his bar on the rack, taking deep breaths. Not out of hard exercise, but of the show right in front of him. It had begun to get hot in the gym, and she was only in a sports bra at the moment.

It was sinful, how her skin stretched over muscles and how her abs were more defined than a washboard… He spent several seconds standing slackjawed, until his brain rebooted and scooped his jaw back into position.

A rebellious part of his brain decided to make this a competition. He walked over, tapping her shoulder and signing to her, /How about a deadlift competition? Winner buys dinner./ She smirked at this, oh god, that smirk… He knew he was going to lose. But bravely, he carried on.

They started at 100 pounds. Simple enough for both of them. Bumped to 200. Easy still. 300. A little struggle from Gren, but a smooth lift for them both. 400. Both of them shook a little under the weight of the bar. 425. Gren was barely making it, but hoisted it in time. 450. Amaya lifted the bar, back muscles flexing so deliciously that Gren was sure he was drooling.

His turn. He setup, gripping the bar and getting into stance. He began lifting, almost getting it to his waist, but then his back tweaked. The world exploded into pain and he dropped the bar immediately, dropping to his ass on the platform. He grunted, and he felt strong hands gently feeling his back muscles.

He was a fool. He didn’t wear a belt, all because he was too busy gawking like a middle schooler. Now he was paying for it, in searing pain and pitying looks from other gym-goers. He sighed, running his hands through his ginger hair and almost yelling out at the stretch on his back.

He must’ve pulled something. Soon enough, he was helped to his feet but one insanely strong woman and piled into a car. They arrived at a quaint 1 story brick house, and he was guided inside by a very, very concerned Amaya. He was laid on their fluffy couch, and Amaya walked into an adjacent room. She came back with some ice, and helped him set it on his back. She settled onto the floor in front of the couch, head coming to rest in front of his hand.

_ She brought me here. This is the least I can do.  _ He let his hand gently touch her scalp, before beginning to rub and scratch at it. She leaned into it, a small sigh escaping her lips. He smiled, continuing his ministrations until he began dozing.

 

Sarai, Amaya’s sister, found them in that same position, long after the ice had melted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another speed drabble I wrote. Anything I can improve on?


	3. A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her hand moved to his arm, her fingers slipping under the sleeve of his black dress-shirt. She retracted her hand, signing again. /Oh, but I’ve already made you blush, and quite hard at that.../

        The candle light, gently flooding the dining hall with soft orange tones, really did something to the mood, because he was busy drinking in Amaya’s sharp features and beautiful brown orbs. He wasn’t entirely sure he could ever get over how high she held her chin, how confident she walked. The dress she was currently wearing (Which had a neckline that was absolutely  _ scandalous _ ) was a gorgeous and deep navy blue. It drew his eyes, not that they needed much help, to her, frankly, huge biceps.

        She must’ve caught him staring,  _ again,  _ because she was smirking. She had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She brought her calloused hands up, signing slowly, languidly, /Like what you see, Gren?/ And boy, oh boy, he  _ did. _ Her eyes crinkled the tiniest bit, her hands continuing their loopy, lax sign. /I must say, I like what I see. Handsome man, in a well fitted tux.../ He swore to the gods above she  _ licked her lips. _

        /You hold yourself so confidently, you’re so smart… the funniest man I know./ His face felt like it was being dipped in molten lava. He raised his hands to respond, lowered them, raised them again, and after failing to sign, resorted to speaking. “Amaya… you’re going to make me blush…”

        Her hand moved to his arm, her fingers slipping under the sleeve of his black dress-shirt. She retracted her hand, signing again. /Oh, but I’ve already made you blush, and quite hard at that.../ He squirmed in his seat as she leaned over the table, the muscles in her forearm flexing as she moved her fingers. /I would say, though, that tux would look much, much better on my floor./

        That was it. He felt his heart stop, his brain short circuit, and his lungs stop working suddenly. He almost face planted into his chef salad. But, with a will of iron, brought his head back up, looked her in the chocalate brown orbs, and signed one of his most favorite phrases. The way her eyes snapped open and her blush deepened showed him that it was a win.

        She stood, eyes steeled and posture tight, and practically dragged him to the door. He gasped when he realized what he had done. She wasn’t kidding about his tux being on her floor, it seemed.

 

        And you know what? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick drabble I wrote in class! More will come tonight, stay tuned!


	4. Spring Breeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sitting here, in a lovely brick pavillion at Katolis park, with Callum and Ezran playing with Bait some 50 yards off, was relaxing, to say the least. A slight wind rustled their hair, and he looked to Amaya, as she lounged back in her chair.

Gren had decided that Ezran was the most adorable child in the world. His smile lit up rooms, and he was just so… fluffy. His brother Callum, a little older, was kind of… geeky. Both these boys meant a lot to him, even before he started dating Amaya. Now that he had been dating her for… what, 4 months now? He had become closer with the two boys. He regularly spent time talking to Callum about writing novels, and would walk Bait for Ezran.

So sitting here, in a lovely brick pavillion at Katolis park, with Callum and Ezran playing with Bait some 50 yards off, was relaxing, to say the least. A slight wind rustled their hair, and he looked to Amaya, as she lounged back in her chair. She was wearing a simple tanktop and shorts, and he was wearing, well, a tanktop and shorts. He reached for her hand, taking it and rubbing his thumb on her knuckle. She turned to him, smiled, and scooted closer.

She was lovely. Before he could spend too much longer admiring her, Sarai and Harrow returned with sodas and chips. Harrow had his dreads up in a ponytail and Sarai’s hair was in a tight bun. They both walked in, hands clasped together and sweat beading on their foreheads. They took a seat next to the couple, and Gren struck up conversation.

“Harrow, Sarai.” He nodded to them, still holding Amaya’s hand. Sarai smiled and nodded, before casting her gaze to her boys. Sarai was an incredible mother. She was kind and compassionate, and a fierce MMA fighter. She challenged several of Harrow’s views on life, and he challenged hers. It made for a wise pair of parents.

Harrow was a rock climbing instructor. He was laidback and respectful, yet commanded respect from his posture and confidence. He was a progressive thinker, and a man who could pass as a king. Gren respected them both immensely, for he learned several important life lessons from them.

He looked out towards their children. Callum wasn’t Harrow’s true son, That much was obvious. Harrow didn’t care. He looked towards the boy with such fierce love and pride in his eyes that it didn’t matter who his parentage was. Callum had a natural way with words, writing pages upon pages of novels just from gut feeling. Gren had read a few of his works, simply to iron out some of the spelling issues. What he had read had almost driven him to tears.

Ezran was a natural with animals. It didn’t matter what species, he would befriend them in minutes and have them all over him for the rest of time. Bait, a particularly grumpy bulldog, took an extreme liking to Ezran, never leaving his side for anything. Gren was proud of them both, and consideirng how young they were? They were incredibly mature and respectful.

And then, he turned towards Amaya. He wouldn’t dare say it aloud, but his queen. His angel. Anytime he looked in her direction, he swore the world turned gold around the edges. He could be content with just staring at her, day in, day out, admiring her sharp features, brown eyes, self-assured smirks, that scar on her cheek that he kissed every once in a while-

“Gren.” Sarai was standing there, a smirk on her face. Amaya was blushing. Shit, he must’ve been staring again. “My sister’s face isn’t that interesting, I don’t think.” Harrow was chuckling, trying to and barely containing his snorts. Gren’s face flushed, but he… could turn this around.

“Well, of course I am, Sarai. Your sister is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.”

Amaya’s eyes widened a bit. He hadn’t ever directly praised her perfection in front of other people, and he was sure she was flustered. He continued, “She is my reason for getting up in the morning, the reason I got to bed happy, and the woman I hope to marry-” He stopped, mouth snapping shut and eyes widening. Maybe he got too into it.

Amaya’s face was thrown wide in shock. Shit… maybe he was too forward…

 

/Gren./

 

He turned to her, face burning hot.

/While I may not be ready for that quite yet, I certainly like the idea of you being mine./

 

Gren fell out of his chair. As he laid on the cool stone of the pavillion, he sighed. This woman would be the absolute death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another speedy drabble I wrote!


	5. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He slowly opened his eyes, golden morning light wafting in through his curtains. He yawned softly, before looking down to the sleeping form of Amaya. He smiled, and ever so gently, brushed her hair out of her face.

He slowly opened his eyes, golden morning light wafting in through his curtains. He yawned softly, before looking down to the sleeping form of Amaya. He smiled, and ever so gently, brushed her hair out of her face. Birds were gently chirping on the oak tree that towered up to his window, and a soft spring breeze flew through the room, rustling the curtains against his beige walls.

He carefully detached himself from the sleeping army-woman, and padded into his small flat’s kitchen to get something cooking for breakfast. He decided on some scrambled eggs and sausage; simple enough. As he cracked the eggs and thawed the sausage, he hummed softly. Quickly pulling up his phone, he turned on soft guitar music, letting it flow over him while he worked. Whisking eggs, flipping sausage, and watching over the food. It was the kind of rhythm he could really get into.

Soon enough, Amaya lumbered into the kitchen, shirt lopsided and hair sticking up. She walked over to him, hugging him from behind and burying her head into his back. He chuckled, knowing she did it to feel the vibrations of his voice. He turned in her hold, pressing a kiss down onto her dark brown locks. He carded his fingers through her hair, swaying gently to the beat of the music and holding her tight.

He let go of her, reluctantly, and turned back to the eggs. He grabbed two plates from his drying rack, loading them with food and carrything them to the table. He beckoned Amaya over, a soft smile gracing his features. They sat, and looked at each other for a second. Him in his white t-shirt and boxers and her in a tanktop and shorts. They begin eating, Amaya only stopping to sign, /How do you make this so good?/ Gren snorts and signs back, /Practice, Maya-dear./ They finish their plates, Gren taking hers and dumping them in his empty sink. He and her move to the couch, curling up under a light blanket and turning on Netflix.

It was Sunday. That meant a lazy day for them both, a day without the gym and without work. He pulled her close, the sun high in the sky outside. Sundays were his favorite. Getting to spend a whole day with the absolute love of his life was always incredible. He buried his head under her arm, curling up on her lap and watching the most recent episode of whatever show she liked. He wasn’t a big fan, personally, prefering to read a book or comic.

But he knew she got cuddly during shows, and he was eager to accept those cuddles. The fingers that had found their way to his scalp and were currently scratching were only proof of his previous statement. He curled up tighter, burying his head in her lap and yawning. Maybe a nap would be nice.

 

He woke up well after the sun had set. Amaya was dozed off above him, head held at an uncomfortable angle. He grabbed a pillow, and with some difficulty got it under her head. He breathed out, listening to the crickets chirping outside and feeling the cool wind blow across his flat. Sundays were pretty great, huh? As he settled back into the smell of ashwood with tints of metal that was distinctly Amaya, he let out a small breath. Yeah. Sundays were the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally begun work on a multi-chapter series called Unshaken! Go check it out!


	6. Late-night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A misunderstanding causes a big change.

Marriage was an odd thing, Gren supposed. Binding two people together with a few words and some circular gold was strange. Yet here he was, standing in a Kay Jewelers at about 2 in the morning, dressed in sweatpants and his favorite hoodie, browsing rings. He wasn’t quite sure what brought on the ring buying spree, but his brain had decided he  _ had  _ to buy a ring, and at that moment as well.

He was honestly surprised Kay was still open this late. He supposed it was for crazy people like him, people who fall in love with strong and powerful women, who are so in love they decide to buy a ring in the dead of night.

Speaking of strong and powerful women, his angel, Amaya. She had a habit of inhabiting his thoughts at work, at home, and almost anywhere. Her sharp features, chocalate brown eyes, close cropped hair, muscular shoulders and arms, calloused hands from military training, A very, very well defined 6 pack…(which he could stare at all day, by the way) leading down to her powerful legs. He smiled, and her smile came to mind.

She was strong. Mentally and phsyically. She guided him through night-terrors, and he guided her through her own. She was funny, intelligent, and stupidly good at making him glow red. She was good at bringing out the best in him, and she made sure he knew how good he was for her.

For the 14th minute straight now, he was staring at the same ring, lost deep in a daydream of Amaya. Maybe ringshopping at 2- no, 3 A.M. now was a bad thing. Hell, he didn’t even know if she’d say yes. They’d only been dating for 2 years. He scratched at his goatee, which, by the way, was something Amaya admitted she wanted to see on him (She actually saw most of him that night). Finally, finally, he settled on two steel bands, with engravings on the outside. After wrapping them in a bag, he walked into the crisp winds of fall. He lumbered slowly down the cracked pavement, before crossing the parking lot and climbing into his Honda. After starting the engine and quashing his nerves, he drove out of the lot, the darkened houses and stars blending into each other as he drove back home. He pulled into their(now shared) driveway, and tried to silently enter the house.

Keyword being tried. There was Amaya, sitting on the couch looking unamused. She signed, angrily almost, /And where have you been?/ Gren looked down, back up, and down at the bag he clasped in his hand.  _ Fuck it.  _ He reached down into the bag, and pulled out the ring box. Quickly signing, /Uh, ring shopping?/

Amaya’s anger had almost instantly faded. She looked curious, gently walking over the carpet towards him. One she was close enough, he dropped onto his knee, flipping the box open and smiling. “Marry me, my angel?”

  
  


Her picking him up and crushing him in a hug, tears streaming down her face was all he needed to know this was a good idea.

  
  


He woke the next morning, clutching her close, the early morning sun spilling their window. He pressed a kiss to her sleeping lips, eyeing the ring that sat comfortably on her finger. Maybe it was time to make breakfast; after all, it was a special occasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing these two. Let me know what you think!


	7. Tables turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gren decides to make Amaya the flustered one for once. It backfires.

Gren was not happy. Amaya had somehow increased her max to  _ 500 fucking pounds  _ and she was absolutely teasing him with her strength. He could barely get through his bench press routine, his  _ best  _ workout with her making him drop the bar. She swaggered up to him, eyes crinkled and forehead sweaty. And then, deciding that she really wanted to make him blush, took the rack next to his and started squatting. He re-racked his weights, sweat dripping into his eyes and his heart about to explode out of his chest.

/You’re the reason I can’t get anything done, dear./ She laughed, before signing back, /Oh? And why is that?/

He mock-glared at her, and was quick with a retort. /Probably because you’re the strongest and most perfect woman I’ve ever met and you overload my brain with your perfection./ She blushed, turned away a bit, and waved him off. 

/Then let’s get something done. Bench 225./ He groaned, and laid back down, gripping the bar and evening out his breathing. He unracked the bar, dropping it to his chest and pumping it back up. He furrowed his brows and closed his eyes, focusing on getting the weight up and down.

By the time his 8 was done, he opened his eyes and looked at Amaya. Oh. She looked  _ hungry.  _ Taking a second to think, he decided he could get revenge. He stood, unracked his weights, making extra sure his biceps popped, and then walked over to the deadlift platform. Facing his rear towards her, he bent down, gripping the bar and straightening up. He did about 4 reps, before dropping the bar, turning back towards her now bright red face, and he winked. He watched her rush to the lockers, and damn if this didn’t feel like deja vu.

She returned sometime later, looking more collected and calm. He went to the squat rack, another one of his favorites, and loaded up 300 pounds. He lifted the weight, and did 10 reps. Up and down, watching Amaya’s eyes note his every move.  _ Good. It’s having the desired effect.  _ He did another set, and another, smirking at her once he was done. Amaya, finally having regained control of her emotions, smirked and pulled her shirt right off.

Shit. He was going to lose. Clad in just a sports bra, she moved to the bench press, loading up 250 and laying down. She wouldn’t.

But she did. She started pumping out sets, one after another, her arm muscles pulling and pushing beautifully. Sweat dripped down her face, contorted in concentration. She finished, sitting up and towelling off her face. Oh gods above, what had he done to himself?

And for the next hour, he essentially stood near the wall while Amaya teased him torturously. She hit almost every machine in the gym, and as they walked back to the lockers, he stole a kiss. Or two. Or maybe they made out in the hallway.

 

And for a second? He wondered if he had a thing for girls with muscles bigger than his.

  
  


He probably did.


	8. Guitar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gren plays guitar. Amaya is cuddly.

Guitar playing was one of Gren’s most favorite hobbies. It allowed peace of mind, and something you could really focus on. So as he sat, on a lovely sunday evening on his back porch, birds singing and sun just barely disappearing over the horizon, he strummed a small tune. If he was honest, he hadn’t played much guitar in a while. Amaya had taken up a lot of his time, being his lovely, lovely fiance. But sitting here, a fresh drink in his glass and his guitar resting in his lap, it was serene.

So gently, after a sip of his drink, he began strumming, tuning the guitar and closing his eyes. His rough fingers pulled at the strings, gently tightening them until they sounded good. With a cleared throat, he began playing one of his old favorites.

 

_ Die Stühle liegen sehr eng _

_ Wir reden die ganze Nacht lang _

_ Dieser niedrige Raum ist nicht schlecht _

_ Wir können uns gut verstehen _

_ So ist es immer, unser Licht ist nur das, _

 

The words leaving his mouth were so, so relaxing, and he felt his shoulders untense after a few seconds of singing. Feeling a song float out of his mouth for the first time in months was something he truly, truly needed.

 

_ Trinken und singen wir, begrüßen morgen _

_ So ist es immer, unterm riesigen Himmel _

_ Leben wir zusammen, die Nacht ist lang _

_ Da die Sterne nicht leuchten _

_ Kann der Mond auf diese Stadt nicht scheinen, _

 

He heard the door behind him open gently. Footsteps sounded on the wood behind him, and then he felt a soft kiss against the back of his neck. He shivered, stopping his playing and putting his guitar to the side. Holding his hands up, he began signing, /Why hello, gorgeous./

He heard a soft laugh behind him, before lips were pressing to his neck again. He giggled, face heating up. Reaching up and grabbing her muscular arm, he pulled her down for a kiss.  _ Right. I remember what makes me truly happy.  _ Standing, he moved to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding their hands out. He slowly began moving back and forth, eyes crinkled and smile wide.

She stared back at him, mirroring his expression as they danced together. Dancing like this, with this wonderful woman who wanted to spend her life with him? He felt warm. Cuddly. So he pulled her closer, enjoying being so close. He began pressing kisses to her forehead, one after another, and she laughed. Her laugh was gorgeous. She began retaliating, placing soft kisses on his freckles. He choked, and tried squirming away. She followed him continuing to plant kisses all over his face. As she chased him around the yard, the sun setting and the crickets beginning to come out, he was happy. Well and truly happy.

 

And you know what? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song he's singing is "So Ist Es Immer". And I apologize for the lack of updates, rl has gotten kind of rough.


	9. Fury

First of all, I want to apologize. After much deliberation, I've removing chapter 9. Not only was it not very fluffy, but it was short, even by my standards, and was pretty weak on content. That's why I'm pulling it. Expect new chapters later.


	10. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gren gets sick, and Amaya is there for him.

As Gren cracked open his eyes, he noticed something very, very wrong. He went to lift his head, and it didn’t move. As his eyes opened fully, the piercing light from the morning sun sent daggers into his eyes.

He groaned, and flopped onto his stomach like a fish. As his face heated up the satin pillowcase, He felt a warm hand snake it’s way into his shirt and gingerly rub his back.

He became pliant immediately, the hand and it’s warmth chasing away his soreness. He sneezed into the pillow, and the hand stopped for a second, only to start again, this time scratching gently at the spot between his shoulder blades.

He shivered, sinking further and further into the mattress. The hand pulled away gently, and he heard footsteps recede into the house. Using his foot, he dragged a blanket to his hips, then used his limp hands to drag it the rest of the way. He gingerly rolled onto his side, the room now enveloped in shade, thanks to Amaya’s drawing of the blinds.

The footsteps returned, and a steaming bowl of… something was placed on the nightstand next to him. A drink followed suit, and he looked up, towards Amaya’s softened face. The bed dipped next to him, and the hand found its way to his back again. He hummed in appreciation, scooting closer to the warmth and climbing into its lap.

He heard a chuckle, and the soup was presented to him. He sat up, pain shooting up and down his body. He rested against the headboard, and felt a spoonful of soup press against his lips. He opened his eyes, and gingerly opened his mouth. The hot liquid that entered his mouth was soothing, and the burn in his throat was replaced by gentle warmth and comfort.

He finished the bowl, and quickly turned back to Amaya. He crawled back into her lap, and rested against her sturdy frame. She wrapped her arms around him, and he fell asleep, head resting against her chest.

  
Maybe sick days weren’t so bad...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN UPDATE? Yeah, I've been inactive for a while. I'm trying to change that, but expect slow updates til school is done. Then I will attempt posting more. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, follow me on twitter https://twitter.com/Nifteebiskit
> 
> Someone tweeted about Gym Buddies and I'm so flattered


End file.
